Patience
by Davan
Summary: Hinamori reflects upon recent developments in her world since the end of war. HitsuHina.


**Author:** Davan  
**Story:** Patience  
**Summary:** Hinamori reflects upon recent developments in her world. HitsuHina.

**Spoilers**: Anything past episode 58 in the anime.

**AN**: This was written for a friend in a great moment of stress, due to this, this story is to be considered _pure_ fluff, nothing more and nothing less. Written to make your teeth tingle from the over done sweetness and sigh at the waff like moments.

Enjoy.

_Patience_

Patience, the act or power of calmly or contentedly waiting for something due or hoped for; forbearance; it was something that she had always thought she had obtained through years of training and through her work as a death god. Now she was not so sure.

Patience had always seemed to be the ability to sit back, watch, and wait to see what the outcome would be. To take no dire actions against anyone or anything without first studying the situation and doing the necessary research required to understand the situation. It was the ability to correct a lower division member with a few gentle words as many times as it took for them to understand; it was the knowledge that if one sat back and _waited_ all things would come, as long as one was willing to wait.

But slowly yet surely she was being taught something else entirely. Patience was no longer the definition of just sitting back and waiting for something to come to her; to be calm and collected and to wait in calm assurance that things would work out the way they were supposed to.

She slid her finger along the definition that she had carefully written out early that morning while drinking her tea and preparing for the day that was awaiting her. There were many things that patience could mean to someone, but now she was being shown a new type of patience that she had not thought entirely possible.

A new method that she was not certain she was prepared for.

A shy smile slid across her features as she used neat lines to mark out the definition that had seemed to be the most fitting earlier that morning; for patience was no longer about waiting for something, at least not to her. Today, patience meant a new ribbon on her desk when the wind blew hers away and a soft look before a gentle kiss was placed on burned fingers. It meant knowing that even when something was damaged and wounded there was still a fire and spark that resided inside; it only needed a small push and gentle words to ignite the slumbering flame.

Patience was about knowing when to step in and issue gentle commands and when to remain in the background, quiet yet encouraging. It was coaxing the sparks to flare on their own so that the soul that wielded the dying flames pushed past their own fear and pain and back into the world, a world where the wielder of such patience was waiting just as quietly and softly for their return.

And she found that so very confusing.

She tucked a stray piece of hair away from her face and back behind her ear where it belonged. She was outside on one of the many benches that littered soul society, in the garden that was hidden between the tenth and eleventh division. It was a tiny thing with a cheery tree and small stream. However, there were all sorts of flowers that thrived in the tiny hideaway, and it had been her favorite place to go and think since she had discovered it during her second year of training.

It was also very well hidden. Only a handful of people had ever ventured into the small area and she was almost certain that only she and Ayasegawa Yumichika from the eleventh division visited the tiny place with any sort of regularity; he for the flowers and she for the time to think. He had given her space and she him, though she could remember vividly the day that he had given her a flower and told her that if she continued to frown that way she would get wrinkles.

She had laughed and even now the story brought a fond smile to her lips. Past his teasing and comments on beauty there was a genuine concern for those around him that endeared him to her; and so they both kept the secret of the tiny garden and their meetings there.

She smiled. To this day, she had yet to be found by anyone else, though she was almost certain that several of the captains knew of it, and Yachiru was very solemn when she spoke of "flower boy." Her lips twitched at the memory.

She turned her attention back to her notebook with a small frown. There were many other words that she was no longer entirely certain of. But this one… _he_ was holding her by some string that she was no longer certain she had control over.

She was also not entirely sure that it was a bad thing.

She chewed on the end of her quill and eyed her notepad. She had come out here today to figure out all the confusing mumbo jumbo that had been running through her head lately. It was spring and with it had gone the cold wind of winter and icy drifts that had haunted them all for months. She should have been happy. There were birds in the air and a sweet breeze that was even now tickling the end of her death god robes. And yet, she was here thinking and writing down her observations and not enjoying the cheery tree's beautiful bloom or the first batch of spring flowers. She found that fact highly annoying.

But anything was _better_ than last spring.

Last spring was known, at least in her mind, as that infamous season; infamous because she had broken her leg in the middle of sparring practice, on a day much like this one. They had been teamed up in partners of two or so and she had been put with a rather green recruit in order to help him get the motion and flow of one-on-one combat down better. The poor kid had been intimidated beyond belief and even her gentle words and soft mannerisms had done nothing to calm him down.

_Her sword met his in a gentle rhythm. The slow steps that she had been teaching him were starting to sink into his brain and he was responding now instead of thinking, a vast improvement from earlier in the day when he had been shaking so hard she was not at all sure how he was getting his sword off the ground. _

_His feet were still clumsy in their movements, she noted while blocking another timid action, and that was what was throwing his rhythm off. She made a motion to end the drill and froze when something crashed into her back. It was a hard blow that had her breath leaving her in surprise, but it was the angle that she went down at that had her brain screaming at her. Her sword tip was aimed directly for the new recruit._

_To this day, she was not entirely certain how she managed to pull Tobiume back in time to keep from spearing him, but she twisted and all the pressure of her body weight and whatever it was that knocked her down caused her leg to twist, and then there was a snapping noise. _

_And then there was someone screaming. It took her several moments to figure out that the brief cry of anguish had erupted from _her_ and even longer for her to realize that she was still making highly undignified noises for someone of her rank. She was gasping for breath, desperately trying to control the cries that were trying to fight their way past her vocal cords in order to get free and be heard, when gentle fingers reached out, pushed her robes aside _hakema,_ and revealed the bone that was now sticking up through her skin. _

_She swallowed a whimper and closed her eyes. She didn't have to hear the gentle whispers to know that they were trying to figure out how to get her to the fourth division without causing her any more pain than necessary. She could hear Renji demanding_ _answers as to how she had gotten knocked over in the first place, when the same gentle fingers that had been working on her leg brushed a stray piece of hair away from her face where it had been matted to her forehead with sweat. _

_She looked up and blinked at a pair of concerned eyes._

"_We need to get you to Unohana," Hitsugaya said. His tone was calm and she relaxed slightly at that. Unohana was good; right now, as far as she was concerned, Unohana was the most important person in the world._

_But that meant that someone, or something, was going to have to pick her up. Her eyes widened at the realization and she shook her head rapidly. One brow rose in surprise and she panted as another shock of pain moved down her leg._

"_Don't touch me," she rasped. _

_His eyes narrowed slightly. "We are not going to leave you out here, Hinamori," he said softly._

_She shook her head again. "It hurts," she muttered._

_She looked up at the sound of more feet approaching and closed her eyes to hide from the concern that lined his face as well. She knew she didn't look well; she was already covered in sweat from training. She could feel herself trembling in reaction to the break in her leg and could only imagine how pale she had to be. _

_One of the girls in her training year had broken her arm and she had been as pale as death as she screamed and cried. Hinamori was not screaming or crying, as allowing herself to do such a thing would have been a cause for effort, but the expression on their faces told her that she was probably just as pale as that silly blond had been. _

_She snapped her eyes open when there was no sound from either of the captains for several long moments, but she was half a second too late. Hitsugaya was sliding his arms under her knees, broken leg on the outside, and behind her back in order to pick her up. _

_She grabbed his cloak and buried her face into his neck as he slowly stood up. She bit ruthlessly into her bottom lip, ignoring the sudden tang of blood in her determination to keep from crying out. He took an even step and she took a ragged breath when her legs shifted ever so softly. _

_And so they progressed, with Hitsugaya taking each step slowly and carefully and she with her head buried in his neck, hands tightly grasping his captain's cloak. Renji had run ahead to warn the fourth division that they were coming and Hinamori was thankful for captains reaction. _

_It had taken them longer than the normal two minute walk to get to the fourth division, but at least they were ready for them. Hitsugaya had settled her on one of the cots with the same careful movements that he had been using since she had first seen him hovering above her, and had remained as she held his hand tightly while the healers set and healed the bone. _

_Over all, the actual time that it took to heal her leg was less than the walk between the divisions. When Isane had left them with a few warning words that her leg would be tender for the next couple of hours, Hinamori had nodded and then offered Hitsugaya a shy smile. _

"_Thank you for your help." _

_He nodded, and his lips twitched upwards at the small blush that had spread across her features. _

"_What were you doing there?" she asked._

"_Matsumoto is out of the office today and I needed to take some work to the second division and I just happened to pass in time to hear you scream," he replied. _

"_Oh."_

_Again that soft twitching of his mouth; she sighed, licked her lips nervously, and flinched when she licked the cuts that she had inflicted on herself earlier. She jerked slightly in surprise when he reached out and ran a gentle finger over her lips._

"_Did you bite through?"_

_She shook her head, too surprised at his actions to vocalize any words. He nodded and helped her stand._

"_I will see if Isane has anything for your cuts," he said, holding her hands for a moment longer before squeezing them gently. "Renji said that you were to take the rest of the afternoon off. I will meet up with you in a little while, all right?"_

_She nodded. He would probably bring Matsumoto with him to keep everything proper but she couldn't stop the warm feeling that was spreading fast at the idea of spending the evening in his company. _

She was blushing at the memory of his fingers gently moving across her lips; she _knew_ she was blushing. It was one of the few memories that she had of him when he was looking at her like _that_ and touching her at the same time. That look she was becoming used to.

It had scared her at first, that all-encompassing expression of his.

At first, it had only been when they were alone, working on paperwork together, cooking dinner with Matsumoto, walking together to dinner or lunch. But they had become more frequent as time had gone by and she had started to find herself looking for that expression on his face. When his eyes would lose the icy shield that he wore constantly, his green eyes would darken a shade or two and soften into a warm expression that left her feeling tingly and cherished.

It was soon after she had realized that seeing that expression on his normally guarded face was the highlight of her day that he had started doing other little things. A lingering touch on her shoulder here, holding her hand for a few extra seconds when he helped her stand there, letting their fingers brush against each other if he was handing her reports, food, or utensils.

And then she had found herself becoming used to _that_ as well.

And once she found herself no longer flinching away from his touch, the slight brushes of fingertips against skin; could look him in the eye and have him brush a stray bit of hair behind her ear with only marginal blushing; and manage to hold his look for longer than a few seconds before she was forced to look away and depart, he began a new assault.

Instead of just letting his finger tips brush against hers he started catching her hand in the evening, a warm gentle touch that held her to his side as they walked. And then there was the first time that his lips had brushed against her forehead. She had stared at him in such surprise that a smile had bloomed across his features. She had turned red and looked away, and while he never said a word about it, each night before he relinquished her to her dreams a soft kiss would be placed on her forehead.

That started a cataclysmic downfall, namely for her.

After that she found herself shyly returning his advances, bright red and embarrassed as any poor girl could be. But she found herself reaching for his hand once or twice, or seeking out his presence for nothing greater than a hug for comfort. And once she was finally forced to face the facts that he welcomed her touch and needed to be comforted by her as much as she needed his touch and comfort, she was lost.

She tapped her pen against her notebook and smiled. And there was the night that she burned dinner…

_She was tired, stressed, and she felt hassled. Today had been graduation day for a large number of recruits and an equally large number had wished to be in their division. So that meant picking, sorting, paperwork galore, and then informing them that they were either accepted or they weren't. _

_On top of that, she had promised Matsumoto and Hitsugaya that she would be the one to cook dinner that night. _

_She stared at the stove, willing the sauce that she had made to hurry up and finish, because she still had to fry the vegetables and put the sauce in the pan that she wanted to use for frying purposes. The pasta was cooked and sitting in the pot she would throw everything together in like it was supposed to. As simple as this dinner was, she wasn't quite sure she could pull it off in her current exhausted state. _

_There were days when she hated cooking. _

_She rested her head on her forearms and closed her eyes. Hitsugaya and Matsumoto would be there soon and she needed to get herself together or Hitsugaya would settle her down in her chair, get her something to drink, and finish making dinner while Matsumoto broke out the sake. She would feel completely incompetent in the kitchen, again, because he knew how to cook and was much better at it than she was. _

_Especially when it was her night to figure out what all the fancy lettering and precise measurements meant in order to pull together some sort of food that was, by all accounts, supposed to be nourishing and taste good. _

_She did not remember exactly when she feel asleep, but she did wake to the sound of her pot boiling in anger and the smell of her beloved sauce, that she had spent far too much time preparing, burning. In fact, she had just enough time to shriek in surprise, grab the pot, slam it into her sink, and take in the mess that it had made, before Hitsugaya and Matsumoto walked through the door. _

_She looked up at them, frustrated, annoyed, tired, and now extremely angry that for once she could not produce a decent meal. Matsumoto took one look at her face and grabbed a towel off the table where she had folded them earlier._

"_I think I will get this cleaned up," she said, her voice soothing. "Why don't you go have a seat?"_

_She glared at the taller blond woman. Oh, how she knew that tone!_

"_I will clean it up," she said, her voice soft, belaying the frustration that was pouring through her. She snatched the rag from her friend. "You two can go have a seat if you would like."_

_Matsumoto backed up, her hands up in a defensive posture. "I think I have some wheat buns that I can bring over," she offered, before turning and walking back out the front door. _

_Hinamori turned a defensive glance at the man who had quietly watched the whole thing. His face held no expression but she could practically feel the carefully concealed amusement. She felt her temper grow._

"_If your going to laugh you may leave," she snapped, before turning her attention back to the sauce. She grabbed a wet towel from the sink and set to work on scrubbing the stuff off before it had time to set. She forced herself to remain calm when he simply moved past her, pushed his sleeves up, and started to work on removing the burned sauce from the pan. _

_In fact, she was doing just fine until she realized that the sauce had practically imploded itself all over her wall and she was too short to get to the spots that were above her head. That did her in. She sniffled and wiped at the tear that was forcing its way down her cheek. She would not cry over dinner! It wasn't like this was the first time that she had ruined what was supposed to be a healthy, decently cooked meal. She was worse that Matsumoto!_

_She threw the rag at the spots and glared at them in defiance when they remained on the wall. She was _never_ cooking sauce of any sort again, for as long as she lived. She heard a_ _strange noise and turned her glare on Hitsugaya. He was leaning against the counter, arms crosses, in the most casual position she had seen from him yet. But it was the slight twitch of his lips and the expression in his eyes that warned her he was not far off from out-right laughter. _

"_Laugh," she said, "and I am dumping whatever other nasty stuff I find on your head." His lips twitched again and she glared further. It was not funny! She had tried to make him and Matsumoto a decent dinner and he was _laughing_ at her. _

_Tears suddenly welled up in her eyes and she glared at him harder. She was tired, her feet hurt, and she did not want to be laughed at. She watched as his expression softened and he pushed off the counter and immediately moved forward to pull her into a hug. _

"_Its okay," he told her. "We still have the pasta and some of the vegetables. We can salvage dinner."_

_She ignored him and concentrated on the feeling of being held. She didn't care if she was a horrible cook or not, being held like this was soothing her ruffled nerves. She sniffed._

"_I hate cooking."_

_A low rumble in his chest. "Then don't cook."_

"_But I like to try," she muttered. Again that rumble, but she continued to ignore it. "I just hate doing so by myself." Another sniff as she realized that she really was bad at trying to cook._

"_Then don't, we can cook with you, Momo. It is perfectly all right."_

"_You're being patronizing," she grumbled, before moving backwards so she could see the expression on his face. There was a slight crinkle around his eyes and the ice was not quite so bright. Oh yes, he was definitely still amused. _

_She glared. His lips twitched. She made a disapproving noise in the back of her throat before reaching over and throwing the rag at him. His eyes widened in surprise before he grabbed a hand full of soap bubbles from the sink and flicked them at her. She shrieked in surprise when the cold water hit her squarely in the face before narrowing her eyes at him. _

_It was war. _

_What proceeded was a massive water fight. He clearly cheated, having a natural affinity for the stuff, but she was rather glad to say that she was able to get her kicks in before they both collapsed on the kitchen floor huffing and puffing, she having forgotten her earlier anguish at not being able to cook worth a flip. She glared at him. _

"_Cheater," she said flinging the last of the bubbles at him. _

_He smirked. "It is not cheating to use your natural resources."_

_She rolled her eyes and sat up; he followed suit and she sighed._

"_How about using those natural resources to clean my kitchen?"_

_He shook his head. "That can be Matsumoto's punishment."_

_She considered it for a moment. "Good idea," she agreed. _

_She smiled up at him and watched in fascination as his eyes darkened in that expression that never failed to make butterflies fly through her stomach at an alarming rate. He reached forward and brushed a piece of hair from her forehead and something shifted between them. Her expression turned shy and he watched her for several long moments before smiling softly. She didn't have time to marvel at how beautiful he was when he allowed himself to let go of his barriers, because the next thing she knew he was leaning forward, and then he was kissing her. _

_It was a soft gentle brush of his mouth against hers, and while it lasted no more than a moment or two, tingles spread up and down her back while her stomach did an automatic flop as it rolled over. _

_He pulled back in time for the sound of Matsumoto slamming the door open to be heard by the both of them. She turned bright red and he smiled before offering her a hand up. She offered him a shy smile before turning to meet the amused vice-captain._

"_Okay, what happened here?"_

She crossed out the heart that her wandering fingers had drawn on her notepad and rolled her eyes at herself. That had been the first of many such moments. Not the water fights, but she had been kissed quite often since the day in her kitchen; a fact that she was quite grateful for. There was simply nothing in the world that enjoyed like Hitsugaya's kisses.

There were soft kisses, warm kisses, gentle I-hope-you-feel-better kisses, and then there were kisses that curled her toes and left her breathless. Those were her favorite. For those were the moments where he let his shields down and let her see the emotion that lay so carefully underneath the armor that he wrapped himself in so tightly.

She smiled to herself. Yes, Hitsugaya Toushirou had taught her many things about herself and him. He had taught her what it meant to feel loved and cherished. What it meant to push past her own hesitations and barriers in order to love someone. But mostly he taught her what true patience was. What it meant to let someone grow and learn who they were, patiently watching and waiting from the shadows for them to discover how to live on their own again. With no expectations from them except that they be themselves and for that moment when they turn with a smile and an open hand to the one that they loved with nothing but acceptance for what they had become.

For that was the true meaning of patience.

She closed her book and glanced across the small garden with a content sigh. The sun was setting and she would need to get going if she was going to be on time for dinner. Her lips twitched; Hitsugaya was cooking dinner. And she made it a point to never be late when he was cooking.

_Hakema_ – Japanese word for leggings/pants thatare worn under the death god robes.

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